Empathy
by Pjaay
Summary: A week following the liberation of the androids, a woman is brutally kidnapped by anti-android extremists. Connor picks up her case but finds he has far more to learn about humanity than deviancy could ever provide him. Connor x OC
1. Prologue

"To the cause!" Cheered my friends in unison, holding up their drinks and crashing them together jovially. I smiled, raising my own drink along with them.

Samantha, a brunette girl I met at university who was a few years my junior, grinned toothily at me with enthusiasm from the other side of the oaken table. She then reached out and took my hand in hers.

"Without you, Nora, we'd never have gotten this far. I never thought I'd see the day!"

I couldn't hold back my own smile.

"Sam, you did amazing too! It wasn't all me."

She lifted her hand to wave me off, "nonsense! You got practically got _the entire_ university to understand the androids' point of view. Without you, most functioning adults today probably wouldn't be on our side. The side that _won_."

"She's right," Joel piped up, turning his attention away from our other friends and looking at me, his curly brown hair fell in front of his bright sea-green eyes and he flicked it away before he spoke again, "if you hadn't taken me aside that one time and battered it into me that androids had feelings, I'd probably have gone home and continued to be a cynic."

I grinned, "I did _not_ beat it into you, Joel!"

"I still have the bruises…"

Sam tutted, swatting his arm, "quit it! She pulled us all together and we'd be nothing without her."

A heat quickly rose across my cheeks, and I bashfully looked away.

"You guys are too kind."

"Tell you what," Joel said quickly, tapping his fingernail against his beer glass, "everyone! Settle down, I wanna make a toast."

The other ragtag android activists that had come out to celebrate turned to face him, and he beamed across in their direction. He swung his gaze over to me as he continued.

"I'd like to make another toast - to our dearest Nora! Without her, nearly all the activists I know would be bumbling around trying to make sense of their words and being no better than the anti-android dicks who plague this city. We came here to celebrate the liberation of the androids, but we've also come to celebrate Nora! She organised us, she helped us, and she gave us the confidence to spread our feelings, and the feelings of the new intelligent species!"

There was a unanimous chatter of agreement and a second raising of the glasses. I smiled as I watched the liquid slosh around messily with another clinking of glass against glass.

I sat back, getting lost in the festivities and celebration. Eventually, however, my eyes wandered to the television at the opposite end of the bar. The news was on, as per usual, and I could see that they had the peaceful demonstration of the androids on repeat, despite the events happening over a week ago.

It was breathtaking, really. Being able to watch the rogue androids come together and peacefully protest that they wanted equality. Sitting on the ground, protesting without a word against the army that shot them down. The video cuts and I see their makeshift camp, and the leader walking to meet a man in the middle of the expansive concrete. The camera shifted to a few more scenes of that evening.

And then, came the robot army.

It gave me goosebumps every time I watched it. The rows upon rows of _fresh_ deviant androids, being led by the most intriguing deviant of them all. The RK800. The so-called deviant hunter.

Of course, I'd heard about him. I smiled to myself as I watched the helicopter camera zoom into his determined expression. The footage paused as info about his model appeared around him. The screen then returned to the news presenters, and so I drew myself back into the conversation with my friends.

But, I couldn't help my thoughts as they wandered back to the RK800. I didn't actually know his name, but I knew what he did for work. He worked for the DPD, originally tasked with tracking down and dealing with known deviant androids. All up until he infiltrated the deviant haven, Jericho, and became one himself. My mind burned with a million questions that I wished she could ask him.

I hoped that I could get the chance.

"Guys," I said, and a few of my friends turned to look at me, "I've got some news."

"News?" Joel asked.

I nodded and cleared my throat, gripping my hands around my glass a little tighter, "I've just accepted a job at CyberLife."

Joel and Sam grinned, but a few of the others were sceptical.

"How come?" Asked David, a slightly older man who sat to my right.

David was one of the first people I had recruited to campaign for the freedom of the androids, and he was pretty vocal about it as well. He was completely against CyberLife, right down to the fact they were still operating. He didn't see the situation as I did.

"Well, they've appointed Kamski as CEO again, and the company has decided to take a direct approach in improving the lives of the androids rather than making them for human use. I saw a job available online and figured it was the right thing for me to do."

The dark haired man furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of me.

"What kind of job?"

It was Sam who asked, so I swung my attention back to her.

"Integrations manager - it's a new role. I basically talk to the androids who need help integrating into society, answer their questions, giving them the best start in their new lives. I start in a week or so."

Sam grinned, "oh Nora, that's amazing! You're going to get to work directly with them?"

I nodded. "Yeah, plus I get to work closely with Kamski. He's decided to take a more hands-on approach with the androids now that they're going to be treated like us boring old humans."

* * *

The rest of the evening bubbled away as normal, the hours sinking away into the early morning. Despite the happy feelings and exciting aura of the bar, I couldn't help but feel one of my group was less than pleased.

As the night in the bar drew to a close, and most of my friends had splintered off back to their homes, I was soon left sitting with only Sam and Joel. David's departure had left me feeling a little on edge, as he had merely grunted at us as he slipped from the booth and sauntered drunkenly towards the bar exit.

"He's such a sourpuss," Sam drawled, cheek squished against the palm of her hand, "He's like, way more grumpy than usual…"

I smiled at her dizziness. I had chosen to drink lightly that evening, so my head was only just filled with a light buzz - nothing compared to her half-lidded eyes and rose-tinted cheeks.

"Prolly cause his brother used to work there," she continued, yawning.

I didn't know this. I frowned at her.

"David's brother works for Cyberlife?"

" _Worked_ , for them. And I'm pretty sure he was his half-brother,"

Joel looked at her uneasily and shouldered her, "c'mon Sam, I don't think that's your place to say."

"He went missing," Sam then said suddenly, hissing and leaning across the table. If she was trying to be secretive, she wasn't doing a very good job of it. Her eyes were slightly misty, and I'm pretty sure she wasn't even focused on me, "rumours have it, that the old-old CEO didn't like his attitude, so he ground him up and fed him to the android polar bears!"

Sensing her fake-seriousness, I chuckled and gave them both a look of disbelief.

"Alright, Sam. Whatever you say," I feigned ignorance.

Joel looked apologetic, "she's had _way_ too much to drink."

"I can tell."

He scooped an arm up behind the giggling Sam, and gently eased her out of the booth.

"I should take her back, it's really late and I know she's gonna regret this in the morning."

I slid out of the booth as well, slipping on my dark coat and shouldering my bag. Once on my feet, the wooziness from my head spread throughout my body. I yawned without being able to help it.

"Yeah I'm starting to feel that way too," I agreed, following him and his girlfriend towards the bar entrance, "I'll see you guys soon?"

We stopped after opening the door, as we were greeted with sheets and sheets of heavy rain. Joel turned to me, careful to not hit the barely-awake woman under his arm against the door frame.

"Sure. You'll be alright getting home?" He shifted his weight slightly, "I've gotta get this lug back home before she passes out."

I raised a hand, "don't worry 'bout me, Joel. You know I'm not far down the road."

He nodded, "alright. Safe trip, call me if you need me."

He sauntered off through the rain in the direction of the automated taxis, and I waited long enough to see them both get inside. Satiated with the knowledge that they were safe on their way home, I began the short walk back to my own place. I could feel the night and the alcohol weighing me down, and the very thought of my own bed and warm duvets made me shudder in excitement.

I pulled my hood up over my head as I walked briskly through the rain, wishing to myself that I had thought ahead and brought an umbrella. I checked my watch briefly, 2am. Honestly, I hadn't expected to be out this late, so I'd not prepared for the weather.

The streets were quieter than usual, probably since most people were still wary of the androids and were playing it safe by staying home. I understood the way they were feeling, but I walked with a sense of pride to my step that could only convey the fact that _we did it_.

Five long years after I had left university, and finally, all of my work demonstrating and lecturing and informing people of the rights that androids deserved… it had come to fruition. Androids were finally going to be given the respect they needed right from the very first moment of their creation.

A sudden sound off to the left stopped me in my tracks, and I found myself staring down a long and dark alleyway that split off from the main road. The darkness shielded whatever could have possibly made the noise.

My first instinct was to believe it was an android, one that might not have been so lucky in the wake after the announcement of android freedom. A slight wave of panic passed through me at the thought of one sitting in some dank, dark, wet corner, bleeding out into the night.

A cough from the darkness shocked my senses into overdrive.

"Hello?" I called out over the rain, only to get no response.

I took a tentative step towards the shadows, "anyone there?"

There were a few seconds of silence, where the only sound was the rain slamming against some garbage bins, and the pitter patter around my ears as my hood protected me from the water. My face, however, was drenched, and I blinked away the water as I took another small step towards the alley.

Squinting, I tried to make out a figure.

A hand suddenly leapt out from the dark, grabbing my wrist and yanking me out of view. I didn't have time to scream before something was shoved in my mouth and I was thrown to the ground. A searing heat shot through my head as my temple came in contact with the wet concrete sidewalk, and a hard kick to the back of my skull was all it took to sent me into a painful pit of swirling red and black.

I couldn't move, but the sensation of hands grabbing and dragging me was the last thing I felt before my consciousness all but disappeared.

* * *

 **Hey there! Thanks for taking interest in this story!**

 **I can't promise how often I'll be able to update, but I'm aiming to always be a chapter ahead :)**


	2. Chapter 1

Connor watched with interest as Hank typed slowly at his machine. He decided to advise him on how to make the best use of travel across the keyboard by using different fingers. It seemed odd to him that this wasn't something Hank already knew. Surely, typing each letter with one's pointer fingers was just time-consuming and ineffective?

"Lieutenant-"

"Stop." Hank interjected without looking up, "stop right there. Don't do what I think you're gonna do."

The android frowned. "I don't understand what you mean."

This time, Hank looked up with a grimace. He waved a hand nonchalantly in his direction.

"You're gonna tell me about, oh I don't fuckin' know, how I'm not sitting right or some shit."

"Well, that particular thing wasn't my current concern, Lieutenant, but now that you mention-"

"Stop!" Hand ordered again, voice loud in the empty office. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, "you work here too, you plastic shithead. You've got a computer, look at some cases for Christ's sake!"

Even though he was often at the brunt of Hanks cruel words, Connor could tell that the man did it with a strange type of affection. Affection itself was something he was only just beginning to understand - the draw of another being, being comfortable in their presence, wanting to make sure that they were safe. Hank's version of this _emotion_ was just a little bit more abrasive than the ones he had researched.

"Right," Connor replied quietly, looking down to his keyboard.

Yes, he could type away just as Hank was _attempting_ to do (it brought him great discomfort to refrain from telling Hank this), but as an android, interfacing with the machine was just a lot easier. Retracting his artificial skin, he brought his hand to the monitor. The screen buzzed with static for all but a second, before giving in to his whims and handing over control.

And so, Connor did as he was told. He flicked through open cases to find one that would suit both his and Lieutenant Anderson's particular talents. There was a mixed bag of cases available, and for once the RK800 decided to choose one of the latest reported crimes as opposed to the most related to the cause of hunting deviants.

It felt odd, to think that just over a week ago, he had been hunting androids like himself. Deviancy was in its infancy, for him in particular, and despite being free to make his own decisions, he found the warm embrace of what he was used too, too hard to pass up. Of course, he no longer vilified deviants but instead was one of them. He figured it was going to take a long while before he truly was able to embrace his freedom.

A fresh case then popped up on the screen, logged only a few hours prior. A missing person report.

He stopped interfacing with the computer after downloading the information within the report. Leaning slightly to the left, he caught Lieutenant Anderson's eye and smiled at him.

"Still fuckin' creepy when you do that," Hank grumbled, still showing his age by typing excruciatingly slow on the keyboard. He glanced at the android again, "what you want?"

"I've found us a case," Connor stated as a matter of fact, "a missing person."

Hank stopped typing and gave him a sideways look, "missing _person_ , Connor? Not an android?"

Connor shook his head.

"This'll be your first mission that doesn't seem to involve androids directly," Hank mumbled, seeming to have pulled the file up on his own monitor, "young woman… twenty-four hours since she disappeared… known android sympathiser."

He grabbed his mug and took a long swig of his coffee.

"Do you think this will be a suitable case?" Connor asked.

Hank raised his eyebrows, "I don't know, Connor. Do _you?_ "

"Well," and he thought for a moment, mulling over his processes. This case would be the first he had taken up after becoming deviant, and Hank was handing some of the decision making over to him. He sat straighter, "I think this will be an ample way to test myself now that I have more control over myself."

Hank seemed reasonably pleased with his response, so he set his mug back down, missing the little mat and leaving a coffee ring on the glass worktop, much to Connors annoyance.

"Alright, that I can work with." He smiled, "last time spotted?"

Connor quickly scanned through the information he had downloaded on the woman.

"Her name is Nora White, she is twenty-seven years old and up until recently, worked as a lab assistant at a thirium processing facility. She is now registered under the CyberLife brand. She lives alone, though her mother and younger brother live on the other side of the city. Father passed at a young age. She has one dog, a Dalmatian. Four years old. Nora was last seen at the Crescent Moon bar in central, left around 2 am, did not return home. That was two days ago."

Connor blinked away the information and focused his optics back on the Lieutenant, who was eyeing him suspiciously.

"Most of that information was divulged by her mother, who normally gets a text confirming the activities she partook in during the day. After a couple of days without receiving a message, her mother visited her apartment to check on her wellbeing, to find her not there. The dog is fine."

"Is her dog _really_ an important matter in this?" Hank started before waving his hand, "you know what, never mind. Let's head over to the Crescent to see if they know anything."

Connor nodded eagerly.

* * *

The bar was quiet, being that it was only 2 pm, and Connor could tell by the elevated heart rate and clamminess of Hanks' palms that he desperately wanted a drink. The pair waltzed into the bar, and Hank moved to speak to the bartender, hopefully for the right reasons.

Connor took the time to slowly walk around the establishment, inspecting the booths and paintings on the walls. Lots of them are android based, he noticed. The one he found himself staring at depicted a beach, waves rising in the background, with a burnt orange sunset and two silhouetted figures standing on the shore. Embracing. One of the figures had the telltale LED fixed onto its forehead.

"Is this an android friendly bar?" Connor enquired, and the bartender broke from his conversation with Hank to answer him.

"Of course, we're proud to be one of the best local places for humans _and_ androids to relax in peace."

Connor turned to face him now, seeing that he was a younger man, early twenties, with a beard and tousled brown hair.

"And that hasn't been a problem for you? It would be thought this was a bar that promoted deviancy."

The bartender nodded solemnly, "we've certainly had our fair share of run-ins with extremists and anti-android supporters, but we've stayed strong."

Connor listened intently but turned his attention back to one of the booths. He ran his fingers across the gnarled wooden tabletop.

"Since the announcement from the Government last week, we've actually seen a drop in targeted attacks here. It's been quite calm, really."

Hank interjected then, "you've not had attacks in a while?"

The man shook his head, "no, none at all actually. It's been oddly quiet."

Hank made his way over to Connor and spoke in a hushed voice.

"You thinking what I am?"

Connor blinked at him, "it is not a feature of even the most modern androids to be able to read the minds of-"

He received a swift palm to the back of his head. If he could feel pain he'd be sure that it would have hurt.

"No." Hank stressed, "nevermind. I'm _thinkin'_ that these extremists haven't attacked 'cause they were busy planning something."

Connor turned his attention back to the painting on the wall, where the human and android stood in an embrace. "I think you're right, Lieutenant."

Still hushed, Hank continued, "if they had time to coordinate together, then they've clearly spent time choosin' their target. And what did you say, this Nora girl was one of the most well-known activists for you plastic bastards?"

He nodded in response, ignoring the insult.

"Then I think we need to trace her steps and find us some extremists."

The pair thanked the barkeep and made their way outside. Puddles littered the sidewalk and roads, and people went about their business, walking this way and that. Connor noticed that there was a severe lack of androids doing the same thing.

Connor looked to the left, seeing the distant apartment block. He motioned to it.

"That's where she lives."

Hank frowned, "Christ, I know you've downloaded all this crap into that noggin' of yours, but it's still pretty creepy to hear you talking about her like you know her, or something."

"If I knew her," Connor surmised, "I'd probably have a far easier time figuring out where she was taken, and why."

Hank grumbled something about taking him too seriously and walked towards the apartments in the distance. Connor paused for a few seconds before following him. His eyes darted around the sidewalk and buildings, looking for a sign, something to give him a clue as to where she had gone. Nora had never made it home that night but was seen leaving the bar at 2 am. The walk between the bar and her home is 14 minutes and 48 seconds at a brisk walk, and anywhere between 17 and 19 minutes if one stopped to look in shop windows.

He stopped at the mouth of an alleyway and looked down at the floor. Scuff marks.

"Hank," he said, and the older man stopped and backtracked to where Connor stood.

"Looks like a struggle," he said gruffly, crouching with clicking knees to assess the scuffs better, "think she was dragged down this alley?"

Connor wrinkled his nose briefly, "I'm positive."

It only took them a few steps down into the shade of the alleyway to be absolutely sure she had been taken this way. Hank nearly slapped the boy again when he caught him kneeling by a patch of blood, with a look in his eye that the old Lieutenant could easily pair with the thoughts 'I think I need to lick this'.

"Don't you dare," the man warned, as he crouched beside him.

The blood was fresh, that's for sure, though most of it had been washed away by the recent rains. It had sunken into the cracks of the bricks, leaving little-dried rivers of blood. He wondered at that moment if she was still in pain, though only briefly.

"She's injured," Connor stated, standing up and looking around himself, "there may be a trail."

Hank had the same idea, as he was already halfway down the alley and out of earshot, pointing each time he came across another splatter of red on the ground.

Connor began to walk slowly, analyzing the ground as best he could.

The blood had fallen from mid height, so Nora must have been slung over someone's shoulder.

More scuff marks, either she fought back or the perpetrators needed to move fast.

Yes, the splatters of blood are spaced further apart. Her body was moving quickly.

 _Her body_. Connor frowned at himself as he came to a stop behind Hank, further up the alley. It gave him a strange sense of unease to think the blow to the cranium may have killed her. Humans were known to be less durable than their android creations. Just like his pondering on her pain, he thought only about whether or not she was alive for all but a second, filing it away in his mind as _an unfortunate possibility_.

Snapping back into reality, Connor peered around an immobile Hank to find the man staring down at an android. It was a PL600 model, though with a different serial number to the deviant known as Simon that Connor had briefly met in Jericho. _This_ PL600 was missing its legs, and it the skin across its cheek and jaw had been torn off entirely. If it were functioning, it would be too much damage for the skin to regrow naturally.

The android was sat in a pool of its own thirium, eyes staring ahead blankly and jaw slack. His arms were limp at his side, and from the looks of it, had taken a beating of their own.

"You think this is work of the kidnappers?" Hank said, stepping aside so Connor could get a better look at the scene.

The RK800 nodded and said, "it should only take a few moments for me to recreate the attack."

Connor took a step back, concentrating on the PL600. Then, he abruptly turned around, seeing a chunk of brick smashed away from the alley wall. His next object of fancy was beneath a nearby garbage dumpster. He crouched to get a better look, and there sat a red stained pocket knife. He looked back at the deactivated android and carefully studied its hands.

"Well?" Hank grumbled.

Connor stood and straightened his tie.

"It seems this PL600 model encountered the kidnappers in this alleyway and was armed with a small knife. It's a great possibility that he tried to save Nora after seeing her bleeding and in distress." Connor bent down again and fished the knife out from under the dumpster, pressing the flat of the blade against his tongue, much to Hank's disgust, "he stabbed one of the kidnappers. This blood is AB-, which is a clear difference from Nora's O+."

"Her… wait, you know her _blood typ_ e too? Did you lick the pavement?"

If Connor understood humour, he would have laughed.

"Don't worry, Hank. I read it on her file."

He stood up and brought the knife over to the PL600, a thoughtful look on his face.

"It's clear that he lost this battle, and his legs, in the process. I think we were correct in thinking that the kidnappers had a motive. Nora is an android activist, and the people who took her were extremists. If she were taken by a single person, this PL600 model android may have won against them, but since it… _he_ is gone, it's clear to assume that there were more than a single kidnapper… three people, most likely."

Hank grunted, which was normal for him to do after Connor was done evaluating a situation. Though, this time his grunt had a specific sound to it that gave it a more impressed tone.

Connor beamed at him, but his smile was quick to fall as he surmised what he'd discovered, "despite this, Lieutenant, there is no hint as to where Nora was taken. I can only make out the incident as it took place, here in this alley."

The Lieutenant folded his arms across his torso and stared down at the deactivated android. "Alright, so, what do we do with this one, then?"

"Well, my original programming would have suggested we take the body back to CyberLife for deviant investigation, but this time around maybe it is more appropriate to take it back to the police department."

The human nodded, "makes sense. We've got enough spare parts back there to fix a guy like this. He'll know more info if we can wake him up."


	3. Chapter 2

I woke with a start, my head throbbing and every muscle in my body screaming in discomfort. The pain swirled around my vision, thumping black and red, over and over. My face felt swollen and tight. After catching my breath for a few, long, excruciating seconds, I eventually was able to lift my head and look around.

The first thing I noticed was that my arms and legs were bound. Tied to the ratty wooden chair I had been sat on. My shirt and jeans from the night before were caked in old, dried blood, and from the heavy, painful pulses that emanated directly above my eye, I could tell it was mine. I could barely even open that eye at all.

Panic rose steadily throughout my body as I tried to figure out the small room I was in. My heart palpitated dangerously in my chest. The walls that contained me were a blank grey, the dirty carpet threadbare, and not a single window in sight. The only light was provided by an old, dim bulb that hung from the ceiling. The only sounds were that of my haggard breaths as they pumped in and out of my body.

I tried my hardest to piece together what had happened the night prior. My thoughts were woozy and scrambled, I could barely piece together a coherent mental sentence, let alone remember what happened to me. Regardless, I squeezed my pained eyes closed and wriggled around as I tried my hardest to recall. My night had begun at the local bar with some friends. We were celebrating the androids' freedom. I was one of the last people to leave, after Joel and a very drunk Sam. I had barely walked down the street before…

… Oh, yes. Before someone coaxed me into an alleyway, knocked me out and then kidnapped me.

My first assumption was that this was an unprovoked attack, but the longer I thought _(panicked)_ about it, the more I realised that this was something long overdue. For the last nine years, I had been campaigning for the rights of androids. For the better part of my life I had been a big target for the extremists, and not _once_ had I been attacked. It was inevitable for it to have finally happened.

With a renewed sense of panic, I tried in vain to twist my arms free from the ropes that secured me. The rope seared into my skin and bit into my wrists, forcing me to grit my teeth in pain. Trying to fight through it was proving worthless. With no luck, I tried the same with my feet, only to find them bound even tighter.

There was no escape.

I didn't even notice the battered wooden door until it swung open and a figure stood in its frame, backed by a wall of bright light. My first instinct was to call the man for help, but as I got used to the light, my eyes had secured on the bat he held between his hands. Without warning, my lip began to tremble.

"I thought I'd heard something worthless _scuttling_ around in here," said the man, and despite the venom dripping from his words, his voice was eerily calm and soothing. Each word was enunciated to perfection.

I froze, clamping my jaw together and staring as best I could at the face of the stranger.

"Not very talkative _now_ , are we," he purred, slapping the length of the wooden bat against his palm and taking a slow step forward. My heart leapt to my throat as he stepped beneath the bare, buzzing bulb that swung gently in the centre of the room. I could just about see his face in the dim light, enough to make out his features. He had bright blue eyes that pierced my own, laced with a wildness that struck a new chord of fear in my heart. His hair was unruly, a messy deep chestnut brown. His skin was clear, pale, and slightly gaunt. It was his facial structure that gave him away, however. It was all too recogniseable. That, aside from his rough 5 o'clock shadow, was all I needed to identify him.

There was no LED fixed to the androids right temple, but despite the odd colour of his hair, I knew what he was.

"You're…" I started, finally finding my voice, "A PL600? What?"

" _Don't!_ " He then roared, racing within a foot of my chair and raising his bat, " _call_ me that!"

I shrank back into myself at his sudden change in temperament, but all it accomplished was knocking my wooden chair off balance until it teetered back on its two hind legs. Unable to stabilise myself, I let out a yelp.

The PL600 watched as I fell with a heavy _thump_ onto the dirty carpet. My hands seared in agony from being pinned both beneath myself and the chair, and an intense pain that travelled down the length of my face told me that a wound had reopened. Blood quickly blemished whatever sight still remained in my left eye. I watched with one eye squeezed shut, brimming with terror, tears prickling my vision, as the man stood over me with his bat readied grinning down at me. A slight whimper escaped my lips.

He spat to the ground beside to me. "You little bitch, thinking you can get away with this shit. I'll have you know I've got a _fucking_ name, not some number!"

I couldn't find my voice, all I could do was float in and out of consciousness as the blood trickled steadily down my face.

" _I_ am Eric," he said, voice calm and smooth, nothing compared to the rage that had coursed through him only moments prior. He adjusted his grip on the baseball bat and raised it higher, his tight grin grew into something wicked and horrible, etching itself into my mind, "and I am _not_ an android."


	4. Chapter 3

Connor leaned over the damaged PL600, one arm folded over his chest and a finger idly tapping at his lips.

"And this is all we need?" Hank spoke from the other side of the metal table, "just some dumbass regulator thing?"

He could tell that Hank was starting to get a little aggravated over the situation, having been sat in this room for almost an hour and a half whilst Connor worked at trying to get the android in good enough order for it to maintain a conversation. Connor knew that Hank was starting to feel a little useless when it came to technology, and the RK800 was no stranger to pointing this out to him.

Connor stood straight, "most, if not all androids are equipped with enough knowledge of their biocomponents to be able to fix another of their kind. I'm positive I've made no mistakes, so placing the regulator in now should boot it back up."

Hank frowned and made his way to Connor side, taking the cold, blue regulator from his hands. He spun it between his fingers before his spoke.

"You're back to calling the androids _it_ , Connor. Is that on purpose?"

He wasn't quite sure how to respond, so he hastily took the thirium regulator back from Hanks' hand and shoved it into the sternum cavity of the legless android.

With a gasp that was entirely unnecessary for a robot, the PL600 sat up bolt straight and swung a terrified fist in Hanks direction. Connor swiftly raised an arm and deflected the blow, before clamping his hands around the broken androids' wrists and staring him dead in the eye.

"I need information," he pressed.

The wild eyes of the bot flickered between him and Hank, and when he spoke his voice was stripped, garbled and full of static.

"I d-died, d-didn't I?" The PL600 said, "That g-girl, sh-she was hurt. I w-wanted to help h-her... One of the men, h-he looked like…"

Connor didn't understand why most androids on the brink of deactivation referred to such a thing as _dying_. If reanimating this PL600 was an indication of what could be done, the PL600 should have known that deactivation is only a temporary state until someone with the correct knowledge can transfer their memory, or repair their body. Unless of course, the memory banks were irreversibly damaged. Death was a human word, a biological concept, and something that androids could just never experience in the same way.

The damaged androids' optics rolled back into his head for a moment, and his voice slowed down to a near stop. Connor found he had to support the bot's weight under his arms as it lost strength. His voice began to speed back up though, and his eyes returned to being frantic.

"Who a-are you? Where a-am I?"

"My name is Connor, I am with the Detroit Police Department. I am investigating a kidnapping, possible homicide. You were at the scene. Can you tell me what you saw?"

The PL600 nodded meekly, though it could have been just a twitch. Regardless, it began to speak.

"I was in th-the shad-d-dows," he stuttered, and his eyes moved to stare at the ceiling, "They d-didn't see m-me at first. I had a knife. She w-was unc-c-conscious. Bleeding. I thought I c-could…"

He then suddenly twisted his body to face Connor, reached up with a hand and took a fistful of his suit jacket. Connor didn't move but saw Hank shifting uncomfortably off to the side.

"I _st-stabbed_ one," the PL600 hissed, fist tightening with an audible whirr. A movement that would normally be silent on a working android, "and he t-turned to me, and he... He look-k-ked like _me_."

"Another PL600?" Connor asked, shifting the way he elevated the androids torso off of the table.

The PL600's optics faded for a few moments, and his skinless jaw clattered together a few times.

"No," he said quietly, and his eyes became frantic again. The fist that had gathered up some of Connors suit fell open, falling to the table, "n-no, it wore m-my face. B-But it-t-t w-wasn't m-me-e-e..."

Aware that time was running out, Connor barked one final question to the android as it began to shut down.

"Did you see where they took her?"

Twitching, the damaged robot gave a static-laden cough, and raised his eyes with great effort to stare at Connor, his voice was almost singsong, "one o-of them s-said… t-t-o, the _g-g-golden c-c-coast-t-t-t_ … _the gold-d-den c-c-coast-t-t-t she g-goes…_ ""

The PL600's voice stuttered to a halt, and what awareness that was left in its eyes all but disappeared, leaving an empty husk hanging limply in Connors' arms. He dropped it unceremoniously onto the table, much to Hanks chagrin.

Connor sighed and turned to face Hank, who merely raised an eyebrow at him.

"What did _you_ take from that, Lieutenant?"

The raised eyebrow quickly turned into a furrowed frown, obviously not a fan of being spoken to like _he_ was the one lacking decades of experience.

"She's somewhere in Gold Coast, South East of the city."

Connor nodded and turned to face the fully deactivated android. His expression was contorted and frozen into one of confusion and forlorn longing. Connor surmised that the deviant android was afraid of deactivation. Though deviant himself, he still struggled with that concept. Why be afraid of something that doesn't hurt at all? He could understand a humans fear of the same thing - they were squishy, malleable, pink and weak, after all.

He looked up at Hank, "correct."

"What about this… lookalike business," Hank questioned, leaning on the metal table that had been used as a makeshift surgical space for Connor to work, "not an android? If they looked the same, that's all the kidnapper could have been, right?"

That's something Connor had been silently processing in the back of his memory banks since the PL600 had said it. It was more than obvious that this ' _person'_ must have been an android.

"The PL600 may have been mistaken during its moment of distress," Connor suggested, "it is known that panicked androids can start to hear, see and imagine things that are not really there due to overheating. He most likely, due to his unstable code, panicked and assumed that the _other_ PL600 he was seeing was in fact, not a copy of himself."

"Sort of like an out of body experience?"

Connor nodded, "I believe so. But that does throw some more questions into the mix."

With a nod, Hank showed that he understood, "like why would an android kidnap someone who worked so fuckin' hard to set them free."

Slipping his hands into the pockets of his suit trousers, Connor mused for a short while. Hank mumbled something about a report and wandered out of the evidence room, returning to his desk where, as Connor assumed, he continued to type _excruciatingly_ slow.

Now stood on his own, Connor took a few moments to scour the information he had saved on the woman who had been kidnapped.

"Nora White," he said aloud to himself, "why such a brutal attack, and why so sudden?"

These extremists had plenty of opportunities over the years to do a similar thing to this woman. She had been at the height of her campaigning during the final year of university when she was twenty-two. Why wait until the android movement had won to take action against her? To change the Government's mind at a crucial turning point? Taking a single woman and keeping her hidden somewhere unknown wasn't necessarily something the white house would pick up on, so why do it? What worth was her life to a movement that had already succeeded and no longer needed her persuasion?

Connors' eyes drifted down to the deactivated PL600 that lay dormant on the metal table. He had seemed so panicked, filled with such _fear_ that it was obvious the emotion was real.

This was something else that was new to Connor - the understanding the emotions weren't all fabricated. That it was entirely _possible_ for an android to harbour real feelings, emotions and opinions on specific subjects. Connor knew this all too well, of course, since he went against his core programming, against Amanda, in order to do what he _felt_ was right.

Was it so hard to believe that a fear of death was something that an android could experience?

Connors' first assignment and cost him his body. The rogue android on the roof of the apartment complex had felt a deep betrayal from his owners over being replaced, and whilst Connor had managed to save the human girl, he had paid the price for his actions. But it didn't hurt. He wasn't scared. He was just doing his job.

Then, his thoughts turned to the basement of CyberLife, where he was confronted with a machine copy of himself, threatening to end Hanks life. To kill him.

He felt fear, then. He felt the pull of selfishness. He chose to save Hank before completing the mission at hand - and it was all based on what he felt was right. He didn't want Hank to die, Hank was a friend to him. He cared for the human, and the human cared back.

Connor slowly removed his hands from his pockets and took a deep, unneeded breath.

There were humans out there who were fearing for Nora, fearing for her well-being. Just as he was for his partner. He needed to do what was right, by them, by his mission, and by her.

He left the evidence room, striding towards Hank with purpose.

"Hank," he called, and the older man swivelled around in his chair, surprised at Connor using his first name rather than his title, "we're leaving for the Gold Coast. Now."

"Connor, I still need to write up-"

Connor hooked a hand under the man's arm and hoisted him out of his seat.

"What the fuck, let me go!"

"There will be time to write reports later," Connor barked, steering the man toward the entrance to the DPD, "we've got a victim to find."


	5. Chapter 4

This time, waking was a hell of a lot more painful. My head thrummed with a constant burn, and my left eye had swollen completely shut. A sickening wooziness passed through me, and bile rose to my throat. I could barely focus on my lap, which was stained brown and red with a mixture of my old and fresh blood. I wished to the heavens to send me back into the painless relief of unconsciousness.

"She's awake," spoke a voice, and I craned my head slowly to see a woman I didn't recognise. Focusing was difficult, and my one working eye was having trouble distinguishing between light and shadow.

"Good. Splash water on her fuckin' face."

A few seconds passed, and a cold liquid was dumped on my head, which succeeded in both waking me up and making me hiss between my teeth as the icy water rinsed my wounds.

"Who'd have thought a bitch like this would bleed so fucking much," said the woman through an almost chipper laugh, and the sound of footsteps approaching me made my muscles instinctively brace.

Two fingers were placed beneath my chin, and my head was snapped up and forced to stare at her. Now that she was closer, I could see that she was a pale woman with dark black hair, scraped behind her head, and equally dark eyes. They scrutinised me for a few moments before she let my head drop.

I didn't even bother trying to move. My arms and legs were still bound, but I could feel a distinct pain from both of my legs. Had the man with bat actually hit me whilst I was unconscious? Was I going to be able to walk if I, God forbid, ever managed to escape?

"I think you roughed her up too much," the female voice said, though further away this time. She sounded almost as if she was above the surface of a body of water, whereas I was swamped deep below.

"Bullshit, Clara," the smooth-voiced man, Eric, responded, "she's alive isn't she? That's good enough."

The woman sighed, her tone completely lacking compassion. Almost as if she were sighing at seeing a cute dog roll onto its back, rather than dealing with a half-dead woman strapped to a chair.

"You'd think she'd bleed blue," she said absentmindedly, before solidly replying, 'alright, fine."

"Shall we get started?"

Clara chuckled, "with pleasure."

There were a few popping sounds. It took a few moments for me to understand that it was the sound of someone clicking their fingers together.

Another round of water was dumped onto my head, and I sat straight, my body crying out in pain. From my one eye, I could just about see three, possibly four figures in the room. Eric, Clara, and another man who had yet to speak, leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed against his chest. I couldn't make out his face at all. The world was a swimming mess of shadows and colour.

Clara stood in front of me and placed her hands slowly onto her hips.

"Nora," she said, and I lethargically raised my vision to meet hers, "you've done this to yourself, you know."

"T-To…. Myself?" I managed to croak, only to find my voice no louder than a whisper.

She nodded, "yep. If you hadn't been so _convincing_ to half the city, we probably wouldn't have to be in this situation."

I said nothing but continued to stare at her as best I could.

"You see," she continued, taking a few lazy steps forward. Eric grinned maniacally to her left. "The public was convinced that these androids had _no rights_ , for so, so long. Then you came along. Bumbling little girl, barely eighteen years old, moving to Detroit to learn about these fucking _things_. You campaign. You stand for them. You _convince_ people that hey, they're not so bad, they gotta have feelings too, right?"

My body shuddered of its own volition.

She stamped on my foot, and I cried out. " _Right?!_ "

"Yes!" I whimpered in response, breaths quick and short.

"Alright, good," she spoke, crouching down so she was eye level with me. There was a cruel smile playing on her lips, "and what if you were wrong? And now, here we are, 2038 with a rebellion on our hands. Androids with their cheery faces marching the streets filled with _love_ and _compassion_ and _hope_. All these fake feelings that don't belong to them. Aren't _theirs_ to experience."

"You're wrong," I groaned, and my mind screamed at me to be quiet.

Clara took a long, deep breath and stepped back into the shadows.

"No, I'm not. These _thieves_ that walk the streets are nothing more than carbon copies of people. Faking emotions and faking the desire to live. There is no living. They have no souls. They can't feel."

The sound of metal scraping against wooden floorboards made my entire body jolt, and Clara came back into view, leaning against a long crowbar.

"Hundreds, if not thousands of humans died last week, Nora," Clara said, voice absent of tone, "all to the hands of defective machines."

I couldn't bring myself to speak, lest I wanted my face to dance with more pain.

"My _mother_ was killed by her own service android. One that I told her not to buy, not to get, but she did anyway. Because she was brainwashed into thinking they were safe."

She lifted the crowbar ever so slightly off the ground.

"But, they still won. Even after all the pain and suffering that CyberLife and their plastic lackeys caused, the androids still came out on top. The public opinion forced the Government's hand. Because of you.

"Do you know where CyberLife get the faces, Nora?"

Unaware of the relevance, I gave the smallest, most minute shrug. It was all my body could handle.

The crowbar then touched the bottom of my chin, and the cold bite of the metal sent my head craning upwards. Clara's thin smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

"From the people they destroy."

The first blow was to my right arm, and I screamed in agony, reeling over as the pain coursed through my shattered bones and down my torso.

"Do you still support the androids, Nora?"

I heaved in a breath, more bile rising to my throat in response to the pain. Every cell in my body was screaming, but somehow my beliefs held strong.

"Always," I choked.

"Wrong," Clara hissed.

The second blow was to my legs.


	6. Chapter 5

"This is it," Hank said, as he and Connor stepped out of the warm taxi and onto the sidewalk. The sky was swirling with a blend of white and grey as the beginnings a fresh layer of snow began brewing. Hank billowed out a cold breath and wandered a few steps into the expanse of grass and pavement. Connor followed shortly behind, completely unaware of the frosty bite that hung in the air.

The RK800 looked around himself cautiously. This particular area was more run down that the rest of Detroit, with asphalt, cracked and littered with stones. The scraping of rubber against cement and rocks was loud and grating on his auditory sensors as the taxi turned and headed back off the way it came. Around them sat many chain link fences, sporadically dotting the area, no longer complete, incorrectly doing their jobs as fences. There were a few buildings that surrounded them; mainly apartments that were missing windows, and with boarded-up doors.

"This is a place that the, uh, the renovation guys haven't gotten their hands on yet," Hank explained, briskly walking down one length of cracked paving, inspecting around the side of an abandoned brick and mortar bus stop. Connor knew this already, of course, but he didn't want to tell the older man otherwise.

The pair wordlessly began their search. Hank made his way to a separate small brick shack nearby, with its windows blown out and a blackened shadow creeping outwards from its empty doorframe. It looked as if it had been burnt from the inside out. Connor, instead, turned and looked at the biggest of the two abandoned towering apartment blocks. It was obvious, if not for the failing fencing, that this was a place nobody in all of Detroit would want to inhabit.

Unless, of course, they were holding someone hostage.

Connor silently let his optics take in the scene, detailing what he saw and logging it in his memory. Even if she wasn't here, he was determined to at least get a little more headway into her whereabouts. He was adamant that the PL600 model android back at the DPD office wasn't lying when he said he knew where the kidnappers had been headed.

After a few minutes, he walked over to one of the breaks in the metal fencing, brushing his fingertips over the splintered material. It was sharp. And, it was stained red. He brought the two fingers up to his mouth, where he wiped them against the sensor on his tongue.

His bio-monitoring system lit up red and blue and green, all of the internal lights screaming at him that this was _her_ blood.

"Hank!" He yelled cautiously, turning to see the man hurrying back from the supposedly empty shack, "I've found a match."

An almost out of breath Hank reached his side.

"Well shit. Well-fucking-done, Connor. You think she's up there?" He breathlessly waved a hand towards the nearest apartment block.

He did. Though, it seemed easy. Maybe even a little too easy. They had been in the area no longer than fifteen minutes, and already he had solid confirmation that she was here. Not an exact location, mind you, but a generalised one nonetheless. He figured either the group who had kidnapped Nora were entirely unprofessional and didn't plan properly or they _wanted_ the cops to find them. A bolt of urgency passed through him - what if they wanted the authorities here quickly in order to discover her dead body?

"Possibly," Connor surmised, pushing doubtful minds away, "she could be on any one of those floors. But this is an exact match for her blood." He held up his slightly bloody fingers.

Hank grimaced and pulled out his phone, awkwardly jabbing at some of the buttons, "gotcha. Right. Armed backup is on the way, ten minutes tops. I've let them know we've got multiple people involved."

Determination flooded Connors systems at the thought of a case followed to its completion. He looked hardily at the neglected housing, his thoughts returning to how easy it had been to find their whereabouts.

"Let's go," he said, starting to move in the direction of the derelict site, but Hank roughly grabbed his arm.

"Wait," Hank growled, "you think it's a _wise_ fuckin' idea to go waltzin' in there like we're ready to take them on?"

Connor jerked his arm away from Hanks grasp, but his furrowed brow quickly smoothed out as he soon understood what Hank was trying to say.

"Right," Connor said with a nod, "we don't know their numbers. There could be more people than we are ready to handle."

Hank smiled slightly, " _Right_ , so we don't wanna go makin' any dumb decisions when we're this close, alright?" He thwacked the android heartily on his back with the palm of a hand.

The pair moved over towards the empty bus shelter so they could shield themselves from the bitter wind, and Hank pulled a cigarette packet from his jacket pocket. He teased one from the carton with his mouth, flipped open a zippo and promptly lit it. He then scowled at Connor, who couldn't help but pull a funny face at the man.

"I don't even need to lick anything to know what kind of carcinogens are in that," Connor said, before adding without a thought, "would you like me to tell you?"

Hank growled, again, and shoved his zippo deep into his pocket, "don't you go tellin' me shit, boy."

Despite his disappointment at Hank, Connor couldn't keep the amused grin off of his face. The lieutenant was so easy to aggravate, even though Connor never intended to do it half the time. In a way, he supposed, it made the times he _did_ it on purpose even more entertaining.

It wasn't long before a police car and a SWAT van arrived, rolling noisily over the damaged road. Hank threw down the butt of his cigarette just as one of the high ranking police officers stepped out of the car.

"I could have you written up for that," the grizzled man said pointedly, motioning down at the smouldering stub.

Hank rolled his eyes, picking up the butt and throwing it lazily into what was left of a metal ashtray, hanging haphazardly from the bus shelter wall. Connor beamed at him for doing the right thing, but the smile quickly faded into a determined purse of the lips as he watched members of the SWAT team pile out the rear of the truck, guns gripped and ready.

"This building here?" One of the black-clad men asked, and Connor nodded.

He turned to face the towering expanse of dirty brick and shattered windows, and began to follow behind the large group of armed officers.

"Time to get the girl," Hank said gruffly, and Connor found that all he could muster was a sharp nod.

* * *

 **If you're enjoying the story, feel free to let me know!**

 **My apologies that the chapters are quite short - I find it easy to stay motivated this way :)**

 **I spent all of last weekend and yesterday finishing up my plans for every single chapter of this story. It roughs out at about 35 chapters (give or take)**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	7. Chapter 6

I woke slowly, to the feeling of scratchy old carpet scraping against my cheek. For once it was a feeling I found I could greet rather than detest; it was the nicest thing I'd felt in days. The fact that the carpet was right there beneath my face told me one thing - that I was back in the first room, where I had been originally bound to a chair.

Every inch of my body seared with pain, but my left arm hurt the most out of everything. My short, laboured breaths intensified as I slowly and painstakingly rolled over, letting the swathes of tingling agony pass over me with every inch of movement.

Thumping over onto my back, I stared upwards with my one usable eye and found that I couldn't tell if the room was dark, or if I had gone completely blind.

I don't know how long they had kept me in that room just to beat me. I also don't know how much blood I had lost because of it, though the wooziness of my every slight movement probably gave way to the answer: _quite a lot of blood, actually_. One thing I _did_ know was that I could feel unrelenting waves of terror pass through my body as tremors. My teeth clattered together in the cold, and I thought for a moment about dying.

Death would be preferable to whatever _this_ was. The pain continued to swamp my every limb, and I could do nothing but concentrate on it. There was nothing else to do. Not even a groan was able to escape from my chapped lips. If death could come now and if I could die where I lay, then maybe I wouldn't have to be beaten again. Was that what they were going to do? Wait a while, and then start all over again? Death would remove the fear and the hurt.

I closed my single working eye slowly.

Then, my shattered thoughts turned to Eric and the way he had grinned the entire time that Clara had been hitting me and taunting me. I thought about how that face was _so_ similar to the happy and welcoming smile of the PL600 model-

My chest suddenly thumped in terror, and I shrunk back in on myself.

 _No,_ my brain screamed, _don't! Don't think about them! They'll hurt you again if you do_.

And so, I pushed the wonderings of androids out of my mind and opened my eye wide so I could stare up into the blackness above me.

I knew they had a plan for me right from the first blow. They wanted to beat the caring out of my system, to make me cold and unforgiving just like them. I wondered bitterly that if I did survive all this, whether or not they would recruit me to their anti-android cult. I briefly struggled to decide if I would accept or deny that request.

There is a distant sound. Tapping, over and over and over. And talking, _so_ much talking. It's muffled and waterlogged. I want to clasp my hands over my ears, but only one of my arms actually moves. I managed to shakily place a palm on my face, feeling the swell of damaged skin that was ballooned to trap my eye shut. Another shudder passed through me.

The noises didn't stop, and through my haze, I tried to shout.

"Stop it," came my voice, but it was distant, just like the tapping. There was no volume to it, no give, no urgency. Just a frail little tone lost to the concrete.

After a few seconds and a few more tapping noises, light then poured into the room, and my one usable eye latched on the figure in the doorway. It was a man. Dust floated around his silhouette, spinning through the air with the light, like some sort of long-awaited dance. Was it Eric? My chest contracted suddenly and my hand that rest against my face reached out. _No_ , I wanted to say, _don't hurt me again. I can't take it. Don't._ But no voice left my lips. They barely moved at all.

The light revealed to me the rest of the room. From my place on the floor, I spotted the chair I had been tied to sitting in the corner. There was blood everywhere. Was it all mine?

Then the hands came, touching me softly and gingerly. _Oh_ , thought my brain, _this isn't what I expected of death_.

Soon, sounds became clear, and the distant tapping stopped. What was that sound? The talking grew louder and louder. It wasn't talking, it was shouting. People were screaming and yelling and making an _awful_ amount of noise.

Dying sucked.

I came to slightly and saw a grizzled face staring down. His beard was long and white, and it matched his hair and eyebrows. It was as if he had a messy halo of white.

"Am I dead?" I croaked, but I don't know if he heard me. He instead laid my arm down by my side and moved away. Someone else came into view. His face was soft and smooth, save for a slight crinkle between his round eyes. I frowned, but no recognition of his face came to mind. He didn't look like an angel, but he also didn't look like Eric or Clara. Where was his halo of white?

Then, I saw it. I saw the small halo of flickering yellow and red.

"No," I managed to cry, my voice still silent to my own ears. I tried to move away, but pain swamped my body again, and my head fell back with a _thump_.

"Get away from me!"

"Don't touch me!"

"No! Go away!"

I don't know if anyone could hear me, but soon the hands of the android left, and I couldn't see him any more. My heart began to slow, and I breathed a sigh of relief. The danger was gone, I was okay. Was the angel going to come back and take me somewhere safe?

I was definitely taken somewhere. Hands gently lifted me up, and soon my head laid back on something squishy. I drew another long breath and decided now was the time. I needed to rest, I needed to sleep.

The pain was still there, ebbing away beneath my skin, but after a few moments, I realised I could no longer feel it. So, was that it? Did death remove pain just like that? My fingers groped at the surface I had been placed on, and I gathered something soft and thin beneath my hands. Oh, no, this wasn't death. It was some sort of material, a bed, maybe?

The cold then bit me with a harshness that was entirely different from the tendrils of pain that had previously plagued my body. This was more of a comfort. I tried to open my eyes but found I couldn't, so I gave in to the softness of the material and let my mind disappear.


	8. Chapter 7

Connor hastily followed behind the SWAT team as they poured into the building, some descending to the level below, and the other half climbing the first flight of stairs. There was an elevator, but it had long been decommissioned - it was old, rusting, and the power couldn't decide whether it wanted to be on and off.

The apartment block was far worse when viewed from the inside, and Connors sensors told him that most of the interior had degraded due to time and a distinct lack of care. Dust mites swarmed the air, visible only when light poured over them, and the android could see Hank covering his nose with his thick scarf. For the sake of protecting his internal workings, Connor to cut the power to his artificial lungs. The bio-organ was used mainly for maintaining a human appearance, after all.

Moving up a floor, Hank drew out his gun and the pair quietly followed the heavily armed team as they explored each level. Connor had counted twenty-five floors to the old apartment block from the outside, and for a moment he worried for the Leuitenants creaking knees as this floor turned up empty and they began on the second.

Then, there was a short shout from the team who had descended down to the basement level, and in an artificial heartbeat, Connor knew they'd found them.

Not bothering to wait for the SWAT team they were already with, Connor twirled a one-eighty and shot down back towards the small dank lobby, peeling through the doorway to the basement and running down the short flight that lead to a dark, windowless corridor. Hank soon, albeit out of breath, joined him by his side with a raised gun. SWAT then piled through, the members moved past the pair in the wide hallway to check each room.

Connor began to walk down the stretch of cold concrete walls and floor, only stopping to turn down another long corridor. No SWAT members had made their way down here yet.

He prepared himself, eyes darting around, taking in the cracked grey walls and missing doors. This place had once been sub-level apartments. Homes for people and for families. And now, it was-

A woman suddenly jumped from the doorway, firing off a wild shot that missed both Connor and Hank entirely. A few members of the SWAT group started shouting, and Connor found that before she could fire again, he had launched himself at her, sending a clenched fist directly into her jaw. Her head snapped back at the contact, cracking against the cement doorframe she stood within, and she quickly crumpled to the floor with a groan. Two SWAT members approached her, removing her firearm and securing her arms behind her back. Blood trailed thickly through her deep black hair and dripped down her porcelain skin. She only groaned more as the officers removed her from the building.

Hank said nothing, clapping the android on the back for a second time that day. It still amazed the older man how efficient Connor could be sometimes - not even himself in his prime could match up to to the RK800. It was amazing to watch him in action.

With purpose, Connor checked the room she had emerged from and came up empty. Back in the hallway, he progressed deeper until he stopped at a t-junction. As he twisted to check one end, he caught the tail end of a figure running around a corner. Without saying a word, he burst into a sprint, firing himself down the concrete alley and rocketing around the corner. Then he saw him, a bedraggled man standing down the hall outside one of the only complete doors in the entire building, brass keys in one hand, gun in the other - pointed directly at him.

The man with unruly brown hair and unshaven face scowled with the ferociousness of a lion - or, maybe if that lion was emaciated and dirty - and dropped his keys in favour of gripping his revolver with both hands. He fired a single shot, which buried itself deep in Connors' shoulder with a profound _thunk_. A few red warning windows popped up in his vision, but he ignored them. Connor knew that no major biocomponents had been hit. His stride was still strong and fast, and he swiftly dipped beneath the man's arm as he threw a wild punch and sent his own up in retaliation, towards his chin.

With a clatter of the gun to the floor, the assailant fell. Connor stared defiantly down at the kidnapper's face and saw an android staring back.

He scanned the man's vitals and saw thick red blood pumping through hundreds and thousands of veins. This man was no android, yet had the same bone structure of one particular model.

The police then caught up, barking out commands and taking the wild-eyed man in handcuffs, escorting him away. Connor felt himself freeze up, as the rabid man's eyes stayed locked onto his own, only breaking contact when he was forced to walk around the corner at the end of the corridor.

Hank then brought him back to a functioning state, bending down to collect the small keys from the floor. The lieutenant readied his gun and slipped smallest of the keys into the slot and gave it a hard twist. The lock _clunked_ and the door slid open.

"Jesus Christ," Hank said under his breath as what little light there was poured from the hallway into the dusty room, "here she is."

As he was about to step into the room, Connor could feel a pair of eyes on him. He snapped his head up to stare down the length of the empty corridor and saw a shadowy figure duck out of sight. Every program in his system screamed at him to run after them and apprehend them, but a little distant voice in the recesses in his mind told him otherwise. _The SWAT will probably get them_ , it said, _check on the girl. Make sure the girl is alive_.

Connors thirium pump was working faster than his regulator could control, and he ignored the blue blood oozing steadily from his shoulder wound, staining his suit. Hank stepped towards the girl and crouched down. She was barely visible to most of these humans in this dim light, but Connor could see her as clear as day.

Her chestnut hair was wild, slick to her face from grime and sweat, spread out over the thin dirty carpet. Half of her face was swollen with deep black bruises and dried blood. Her mouth moved with inaudible words, and her one half-lidded eye wandered around aimlessly. She lay flat on her back, one arm bent at an impossible angle at her side, the other weakly pressed against the swell of her face. She wore a tank top and jeans, which Connor assumed had been light in colour originally - now, they were brown and red and black. Blood had pooled deep into the carpet, staining it a horrid earthy brown. How long had she been left here, dying on her own?

Hank stood up, she reached out weakly after him. Connor then found he had moved to kneel by her side, of his bodies own accord. Her eyes lazily wandered up to meet his, but her gaze held no lucidity. He pressed two fingers to the wrist of the arm she had started to reach out with and took her pulse. It was there, obviously, but was weak, quiet, and slow.

"Paramedics!" Connor bellowed, and the girl didn't flinch at his voice, instead, her single eye wandered to his again, eventually settling on the LED fixed to his temple. Within a moment, that single eye grew wide, and her dry lips trembled. She began to try and move away.

She had barely managed to hoarsely whisper the word 'no' three times before her head fell to the ground from the exerted energy, of which she had none. She squeezed her single eye shut and let her head roll away from him.

Connor stood up, allowing the paramedics to pass by so they could fawn over the injured woman.

Hank placed a hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. He spoke quietly, "until we get a chance to talk to her, Connor, we aren't gonna know much. Gotta be patient."

"I know," was Connor's response, but, he had lied. He _did_ know why she had that reaction to his presence. It wasn't because she was afraid of the kidnappers coming back, it was because she was afraid of _him_. An android.

"Hank," Connor said under his halted breath, figuring out how to best put it into words, "I think that the extremists have tried to brainwash her."

The older man gave him a sideways glance. The pair watched the paramedics load the bloodied woman onto a stretcher. Hank didn't say anything, so Connor continued.

"What other reason would they have hurt her so thoroughly," he said, "she was the biggest voice for the androids in all of Detroit, and she was _scared_ at the sight of me, Lieutenant."

They watched as she was removed from the room. Hank turned to face Connor properly.

"If you think she's scared of you because of that, you write it up in your report," Hank said simply, "and we try to help her."

Connor said nothing.

"But, case closed!" Hank said in a chipper tone, slapping Connor's back for the _third_ time that day. He made a rather aggravated mental note to let him know when they were home, that he really didn't appreciate being hit that way, even if it didn't physically hurt him.

"Right," Connor replied coolly.

They left the basement. The case was cut and dry - a kidnapped woman found and whisked off to the hospital, two assailants apprehended and taken into custody at the DPD until they could be dealt with by the hammer of a judge.

Aside from the third person. The single person that Connor had chosen to let go just so he could make sure that the victim was living. His internals gave a sudden shudder.

As Connor ascended the hard concrete stairs and out into the open, he knew he should have felt some sort of gratification. But as he adjusted his tie, fixed his tousled brown hair, restarted his respiratory system, and pretended that wiping off the dried thirium from his jacket would actually do anything, he realised that no sense of gratification was ever going to come.

He watched as small flakes of snow drifted down and got caught in the few wisps of hair that fallen down across his vision. The minute pieces of ice melted within milliseconds of touching him. An androids optimum working temperature was anywhere between ten and thirty degrees above a healthy human.

Hanked walked past him, phone in his hand - most likely ordering a taxi. They hadn't brought his car earlier that day since Hank was insistent that he was still a little drunk from the night before. Connor remembered that he had just rolled his eyes at the man and ordered them a ride.

Connor walked across the patchy grass and stood beside the grey-haired man as he wiggled his head further into the warmth of his thick grey tartan scarf. His ice-blue eyes darted over to the android, who stood with his hands opening and closing by his sides; not even a shiver.

"I think it's real unfair that you plastic robots don't feel the cold."

Connor shrugged. "I can tell the temperature, but unless it reaches a sub-optimum performance level, I will never be affected. I can even heat up each section of my body separately."

Hank frowned, shirking a cigarette out from its packaging and placing it so it teetered between his lips, "don't think I needed to know that." He craned his head down so that the tip of the cigarette could kiss the licking flame from his zippo.

The man took a drag, and Connors' lip quivered.

"Arsenic, beryllium, lead, hydrazine, butadiene-"

" _Connor_ ," Hank cut over him, "fuckin' stop, Jesus Christ."

The pair was quiet for a short while longer.

"Somethin's bothering you," Hank stated as-a-matter-of-fact, taking another drag.

It was true, something was, though he wasn't sure he was ready to discuss something like that with Hank just yet.

"Not at all," Connor said with a smile, spotting the yellow taxi between the grey and dull green, "our taxi is here. Shall we?"


	9. Chapter 8

This time when I woke, there was no pain at all. In fact, it was as if I were floating on a bed of clouds. I didn't have to sharply suck air between my teeth just to distract myself, the light wasn't too dim to see my own trembling hands, and I couldn't feel the bite of the cold as it seeped right through to my bones.

Instead, I was laying down in a warm, soft bed. The right side of my head felt as if it were bandaged tightly, and after a few moments, I was able to slowly open my eyes. _Both_ of them. Relief flooded me from head to toe at the realisation that I still had the vision in both of my eyes.

With the new found knowledge that I could see, I noticed that I was inside a private hospital room. Just me, on my own, laying back staring at white walls and blue curtains whilst my nose burnt from the antiseptic in the air.

I loved it.

It meant I had been rescued, no longer forced to be victim to the horrific beatings from Clara and Eric. For now, I could rest and heal knowing they had been captured and I wasn't going to be subjected to their violence any more - nor anyone else, for that matter.

"Miss White," a voice spoke, and I jumped slightly where I lay. I looked to my right and spotted a doctor standing in the doorway. A human one, holding a glass of water and a clipboard. My heart hammered away in my chest for reasons I couldn't quite understand. He smiled, "sorry if I spooked you. I've come to see how you are doing."

I looked at myself then, noticing numerous bandages. Worse of all, my left arm had been secured against me in a cast. I raised my eyes to watch him approach me.

"You're very lucky," he commented, motioning to my arm, "you've got a fracture. Should take one to two months to heal. Three weeks if you take it easy and rest up."

"Oh," was all I managed to say, and my voice was dry from lack of use.

"You also received a nasty blow just above the temple - any lower and you might not be here today."

I looked away, getting the impression that he was suggesting that I should feel thankful. But after what I endured for days at a time, I don't think thankful was ever going to be the right word. In that cold, stale building, all I wanted to do was hurry up and die.

The doctor seemed to catch onto my unease.

"Don't worry," he said, smiling behind thick-rimmed glasses, "you're safe now. Your kidnappers were apprehended, so I've been told."

"That's… good," I said, meaning the words.

He continued. "I've been asked to request that you meet with the responders who were placed on your particular case, would you mind that?"

A zap of fear suddenly coursed through me, my mind burning with a yellow and red ring of light.

"The… police officers? But one of them is an…" I trailed off.

He seemed reasonably sympathetic, though very misunderstanding.

"I know that after all that has happened these past few weeks, androids may seem a little daunting, but I've met some great ones in my time. They make for great conversation."

I know that he was just trying to make light of everything that happened to me, but he didn't understand. Each mention of the word _android_ sent a course of shivers down my spine. I could feel my heart ramp up the pressure with each lingering thought on their plastic faces and blue blood.

"In fact, my housemaid is- well, _was_ fantastic company. She was taken away when the government started vito-ing personal assistants. I wanted to keep her, but she didn't put up much of a fight."

"Please," I then cried, voice still cracking, "please stop, I can't- I don't want to talk about them."

He frowned, but nodded, realising his overstepping of boundaries. He placed the glass of water on my bedside table and straightened the paper on his clipboard now that his other hand was free. His voice resumed a cordial tone.

"You'll be able to return home later on this evening. The DPD has arranged a taxi for you."

I breathed a sigh of relief. I wanted nothing more than to get home, make sure my dog was okay, and sink into my bed to try and forget about everything.

"One last thing," the doctor said with a smile as he made to leave, "I've left some phone numbers with your belongings. Ordeals like yours can cause detrimental damage to the psyche. It might be helpful to have someone to talk to."

I gave a nod of my thanks and watched him leave, closing the door behind him. My head fell back onto the soft pillow and I stared blankly at the ceiling. Tears began to tickle my eyes, and I made no effort to stop them.

It was all real. It happened. Those horrible, terrible things happened to me. My arm was broken. I was meant to start my new job in a few days - what is CyberLife going to think if I turn up on my first day all battered and bruised? And what about the androids? The thought made me shudder involuntarily. My entire new role is based on integrating androids into society, but here I am, fearful at the very mention of them.

I want to believe that it's okay to think about them. I want to believe that I won't come to more harm if I do. But, Clara's sickening grin and Erics hawk-like eyes were etched into the forefront of my mind, cackling and watching as I was beaten for my very opinions.

Later that evening, I stepped into the threshold of my apartment and was tearful to see my dalmatian, Benny, come bounding over to me. I awkwardly scratched behind his ear with my one usable hand, and he licked me mercilessly.

"Hey, boy," I said quietly, "I'm sorry I was gone for so long."

Benny let out a quiet bark and then wandered back to his dog bed, stepping a few circles atop his blanket before settling back down. I smiled at him. Luckily my mother, as distraught as she had apparently been, had still come to my apartment daily to care for my dog.

I moved into the kitchen and placed my bag on the work surface, struggling to unzip it with just one hand. I tried to not let the frustration get to me. Eventually, the contents spilt out onto the surface, and I fished out some painkillers that the hospital had prescribed me. I knocked two of them back with an ice cold glass of water.

I then brought my attention to my bathroom, where I soon stepped gratefully into the shower. I would normally have the water as hot as possible, but this time I let it run cooler. I tried my best to wash away the muck and horrid feelings, anything the hospital had missed. By the time I had carefully lathered up my hair and scrubbed my body three times over, I still didn't feel clean. The black and blue bruises that littered my aching body just weren't going away. I watched the water drip down the glass shower door and let out a long sigh.

The android who came to my rescue was the RK800 from the television. From the peaceful demonstration. I knew that now. That man with the bushy hair that I mistook for a halo was his partner. Which means that I had been scared of the very android who not even days before, I had marvelled over after seeing on television. Guilt racked up inside of me, and I failed to push it away. After everything that happened, the idea that he _wasn't_ going to go haywire and cause havoc was so hard to get out of my mind. Each and every time I thought good things about androids, Clara's wicked smile came curling its way into my mind, and Erics twitching hands surely followed.

I climbed out of the shower after a long while, drying myself off and climbing into fresh, clean pyjamas. Quickly, I made sure the front door was locked and then moved to the bedroom where I slipped beneath the covers. After a few seconds, Benny came padding into the room and jumped up beside me. I had to lay on my back as to not disturb the cast on my arm, so I stared at the dark ceiling until a restless sleep eventually dragged me under.


	10. Chapter 9

Connor stared at the man sprawled out across the sofa, legs spread wide and mouth hanging open. A soft snore plagued the air. The house was warm, despite the cold snow that fell soundlessly outside.

The android made sure the sleeping man's vitals were as they should be, which they were, and then set about moving around the apartment, picking up glass bottles and dropping them into the trash can in the kitchen. He wiped down kitchen sides, dusted above cupboards, and cleaned the used plates and cutlery that had been abandoned in the sink. He swept all hard floors and tidied away strewn clothes, and then sat himself down in an armchair and patiently waited for Hank to wake up.

And wake up, he did. About half an hour after Connor was done tidying the house.

Groggily, the older man shimmied himself into a sitting position and wiped his face with his hands.

"Connor?" Hank grumbled, yawning, "don't tell me you've been sat there all night. You've got a room now, y'know."

Connor smiled, "no, Lieutenant, I've been busy cleaning."

Hank frowned, mumbling " _creepy-ass fuckin' smile_ … so, after all that shit you went through, you're gonna clean up like some service android?"

Connor shrugged - it was a small movement, but there. Enough for Hank to notice.

Hank _did_ notice these things. He noticed the way Connor sometimes pulled a face at the mention of something he didn't really want to do, and he noticed how the android was starting to make little changes to himself that came across awfully human. Shrugging, for instance, being one of them. Hank was pretty sure he'd never seen him shrug at all before this moment. Didn't stop the smile from being creepy as hell, though.

He had a certain level of respect for the young android. Despite being all wires and plastic and ones and zeros, Connor had proven to a tightly wound Hank - and he _was_ tightly wound, there was no denying it - that androids had the ability to have human thoughts and make equally human decisions. Seeing Connor over the course of the while he'd known him, making the change from a methodical _robot_ into a thinking and feeling entity was almost breathtaking.

Though he wasn't the best at words, Hank would even hazard to say that Connor was taking on a role very akin to a son. He'd never compare to Cole, of course, but that wasn't going to stop Hank from positively taking something out of this. He chuckled to himself, then. Connor had been _so much_ of an influence on him, that he was taking positive morals from situations, and even disposing of cigarettes properly.

"Is something funny?" Connor asked, sitting awkwardly in the armchair.

Hank sighed, woozily hoisting himself up onto his feet and pulling his robe around him a little tighter.

"Nah, nothin'." He started towards the kitchen, flicking on the coffee machine, "time?"

"Just gone eight a.m," Connor responded without pause, getting up and following him. He watched the grey-haired man poke around in the fridge and held his tongue on suggesting that maybe it's time they bought some fresh produce so he could cook him something healthy.

"Shit," Hank then spat, slamming the fridge and causing the washed plates in the sink airer to wobble with a soft clinking sound.

Connor raised an eyebrow and gestured to him, "are you alright?"

"Yeah," Hank said with a wave of the hand, "forgot that we've got to check on Nora today, DPD's ordered us to keep tabs on her for the time being, make sure she's copin' and all that shit."

Connor tilted his head down slightly and pursed his lips. They had to check on her? He wasn't sure what he was to expect from the woman, seeing as after discovering her it had lead to the realisation that she was terrified of him. His mind played over and over a scenario where he arrives at her apartment and she screams and slams the door in his face, or breaks down and bursts into tears, or yells at him to leave, or denies he had helped her at all.

"Connor," came Hank's voice, and Connor realised he had been starting off into nothing, "Are _you_ alright?"

He nodded, "sorry, I think my systems overheated a little, I didn't get much time to enter my power saving mode last night."

Hank rolled his eyes and swiped a banana from the fruit bowl, "and who's fault is _that_ , tin can?"

"Well, it is my own," Connor answered, and Hank barked out a laugh as he wandered into his bedroom, depositing the banana peel on a wall side table before the door shut behind him.

A slight quiver of annoyance spread through Connor's systems, and he walked over to face the banana peel. Why did Hank always insist on leaving his trash everywhere! In most cases, it ended up getting hidden and leaving a nasty smell, and in even _worse_ cases, Sumo would eat it and then leave some puke on the carpet. Connor grimaced as he reached out to pick up the peel. His fingers grazed the browning skin and he suddenly stopped himself. Then, he let his arm fall to his side.

"Clean it up yourself," he muttered, turning and moving to sit on the sofa with his arms folded defiantly across his chest; where he would remain until Hank was finished getting ready, twenty-seven minutes later.

* * *

On the way to Nora's apartment, Hank got a call from the office requesting him to come to the office in a little under an hour. He cursed at his phone after hanging up and ran a hand down the side of his face.

"Can't a man enjoy his Saturday in peace!" He yelled to nobody but Connor, who was the only other person riding in Hank's beat up old car, "Christ, you'd think they'll ask me to sign over my fuckin' life next!"

Connor didn't say anything, looking back at the scenery outside the window. Slowly but surely, the city of Detroit was being blanketed under layers of white. Connor knew that snow was cold, and he knew that humans exposed to it for too long would become damaged, but he didn't know exactly how the bite of that cold felt. He could place his hand in the snow and say 'yep, that's definitely cold', but that's just because his artificial brain is telling him the temperature of the snow is below freezing. His reactions aren't based on natural chemical reactions.

He stopped thinking about it when Hanks car rolled to a stop in front of an apartment block.

Hank nearly slipped over during the short walk between his car and the entrance to the apartments, so Connor took his elbow in order to guide him safely, much to Hank's anger. He clearly didn't like being safety manoeuvered through dangerous conditions, so Connor then left him to it. He did only slip two more times before the entrance, so Connor actually came out of the situation reasonably impressed.

They stood outside her apartment door, and Hank briskly knocked before Connor had a chance to ask him what they were supposed to talk to her about exactly.

She opened the door thirty-five seconds later, and the colour drained from her face.

"Hi," she squeaked, eyes locked onto Hanks.

Connor noticed that the fingers on her only available hank were beginning to turn white from the pressure she was exerting from gripping the front door.

He was about to say something, but then a large white dog with black speckled colouring came bounding in his direction. It skidded to a stop and Connor held out his hand for him to sniff. He loved spending time with Sumo, and after reading about Nora's dog in her case file, he had always been secretly hoping he'd get the chance to be introduced.

The floppy-eared dog sniffed his suit and his palm a few times, before sitting down on its hind legs and resting his head in Connors' hand. The android crouched down and gave the dog some scratches behind its ear, to which it responded with closed eyes and the lolling of his tongue.

Connor hazarded a glance up at Nora and was happy to notice that her speeding heart rate had slowed to something akin to _only slightly panicked_. He gave the Dalmatian a final scratch on the crown of its head and stood up straight.

"What's your dogs' name?" Was the first thing he said. Not a greeting, not a concerned question about her health, a question about her dog.

He heard Hank sigh loudly.

Nora's blue eyes darted between his for a few moments, and her lip trembled ever so slightly before she spoke.

"Benny," she said quietly, fingers still gripping the door.

"I'm Hank - do you mind if we come in?" Hank then said, earning her gaze, "we've been asking to check in on you periodically."

She didn't say anything, pulling her jacket a little tighter around her middle. It was then Connor noticed that she was dressed in bed attire. Loose black sweatpants, a dark grey vest, fluffy socks. She'd clearly slung on the zip up jacket to cover herself a little more before she answered the door.

Nora nodded slowly, opening the door the rest of the way.

Hank stepped in first, and Connor followed.

"Would you like a coffee?" Nora squeaked as she closed the door, and Connor noticed how she practically ran into the kitchen to make some anyway. Hank frowned as he settled himself down on her sofa.

"Sit," Hank said under his breath, and Connor nodded, planting himself down in a red suede armchair.

She wasn't long, soon entering back into the living area and placing one mug on the coffee table. She then apologised under her breath and scuttled off again, returning with another. She sat herself down next to Hank and tried her utmost to not look at the android.


	11. Chapter 10

I kept my hand wrapped around my hot mug, watching the steam twirl and rise up gently from the smooth caramel surface. The smell of coffee was strong, and it booted my senses awake as I sat straight. I tried my hardest to concentrate on anything but the RK800 that was sitting calmly opposite me, in my favourite red chair of all places.

"Connor and I have come to check on to you," the officer repeated cautiously, and I turned to look at him, offering as best a smile as I could.

"Thanks," I said, though the worried and quiet tone of my voice gave me away.

Hank seemed placated with my response, and I felt the natural need to look elsewhere, but my entire body screamed at me to look anywhere but at the android.

"When do you start your new job?" Hank then asked, and I bit my lip. I could taste copper.

Of course. Of course they knew I had gotten the job at CyberLife. It was probably written up on some statement somewhere - I know that my mother had given one to the police station after she had noticed I was missing, though I didn't realise how much information she had given. They probably knew more about me than I did, especially since my brain was all over the place at the moment.

"My first day was meant to be on Monday," I finally said, unable to hide the shake as I lifted my mug to take a sip. I still kept my eyes trained on Hank rather than on _Connor_. I don't know if I liked the fact I knew his name, now. It was humanising, "but they've delayed my first day until Wednesday."

Hank frowned at me, "that's shit. Broken arms take long to heal, right?"

I nodded, "the doctor said a month, at best."

He shook his head, "when I was a kid, we got more fuckin' time to recover. Could barely heal from a papercut in two days."

I shrugged, "so long as I'm able to actually do my job, I don't mind."

Then, Connor spoke. His voice was silky smooth to my ears, and so an involuntary shudder passed through me.

"What will your new role entail?"

My heart gave a horrid jump in my chest, and I carefully raised my eyes to meet his. They were a soft brown, and his mouth held a small smile. I couldn't keep my gaze off of his LED, which flickered between blue and yellow. Over and over.

"Androids," I blurted, and the one sat opposite me raised his eyebrows, "I uh, will be working with deviants."

His eyebrows raised even higher, and even Hank gave an interested sounding hum.

Connor shifted in his seat, "how so?"

I pushed down the feeling of heavy unease that had begun to clog my thoughts and gripped my coffee mug a little tighter. I took a deep breath before I spoke.

"I'll be leading the integration of androids into society, helping those who have deviated their programming by interviewing them, supporting them, giving them someone to talk to if they need it. I'll also be talking to the deviants who are scared or afraid, being the rock they need to get settled into their new life."

Connor blinked at me, so I hastily added, "at least, that's the plan. I'll be working closely with Elijah Kamski."

I couldn't quite read the expression on Connors' face. He looked… indifferent, of all things. This was a deviant android, right here, right in front of me, yet from his blasé expression, it was hard to tell he was anything except for a cold, unfeeling machine.

And then, Benny hopped up onto his lap.

The android raised his arms in shock but was quick to wrap them around my dog, as he made himself comfortable and curled into the tightest ball possible. Connor then looked up, petting my dog gently, and smiled with a big, goofy, white-toothed grin. Benny was a fairly big Dalmatian, so he took up most of the red chair and squashed Connor beneath him, but from the beaming android, I could tell he didn't care.

This was deviancy at its finest, I then realised. This android was sitting, relaxing, taking the time to enjoy an activity. It was clear from the body movements that he was already attached to my dog, and from how he was using both arms to heartily scratch behind his ears, that he wasn't just programmed to enjoy the attention of dogs. This was code rewritten by the marvel of deviancy.

I felt my heart give a strange tug in my chest, so I looked away and back to Hank, who had flushed with embarrassment.

"I swear to God," I heard him mutter under his breath, "that boy…"

"It's fine," I said quietly to the man, "Benny's enjoying himself."

Hank then shifted in his seat and leant a little closer. He smelt like men's deodorant and smoke.

"Mind if we uh, head to your balcony quick? I'd like to ask you something without Mr Wires over here listenin' in. He seems pretty distracted anyway."

I nodded and got up. Connor was too busy being unceremoniously licked on the face by the excitable Dalmatian to notice, so Hank and I headed to my balcony door. I hastily put my slippers on.

When we stepped outside, the bite of the frosty air was instant. I wrapped my single arm around myself and crunched my feet into the snow. Hank tipped a cigarette from a pack in his pocket and lit it - I didn't mind and assumed he did it to warm himself up.

"You smoke?" He asked, and I shook my head. Maybe in my early twenties, but not any more.

"No," I said, feeling myself relax despite the cold. Connor was making my chest hurt from just _being_ around, "thanks, though."

He leant against the railing and stared down to the street below.

"I wanted to ask you something about Connor,"

"Connor?"

He shrugged, "and androids in general, I s'pose." He took a long drag, "you scared of 'em?"

The casual question sent me reeling internally. I looked away and out across to the sky in the distance. Slithers of white between towering skyscrapers. Snow fell softly, melting cold against my skin.

"I wasn't," I said carefully, "but after… when they beat me for it..." I trailed off.

"Ah," he said under his breath, "tin can was right."

I looked at him now, "huh?"

He motioned behind him, "Connor. He figured from your gut reaction to seein' him that they'd beat the caring outta ya. Was he right?"

After a few seconds, I nodded, and Hank took another toke on his cigarette.

"I get it. I was 'fraid of them too. I'll tell you why."

"Yeah?" I asked, wishing I had zipped up my hoodie before I stepped outside.

"My son, Cole. He died under the hands of an android."

I couldn't help the gasp as it escaped my cold lips, he met my eye and smiled sadly.

"At first, I was angry at the androids," then he shook his head slightly, "no, I was angry at them for _years_. Drunk myself silly 'cause of it. Still do. But after I met Connor - and I hated the fuck - but, after I met him, the kid taught me that he's fuckin' full of humanity and that he ain't the only one."

I looked down, remembering in detail the campaigning I did as a fresh-faced University student.

"He's a good guy. Through him I realised it wasn't the fault of the android, it was the human it was covering for. Some doctor, still at home, too fucked up on red ice to be there for my son. For all I know, Cole would have died either way. I just took my anger out wrong."

"I'm so sorry," I finally said, and he looked down with a small nod.

"But," Hank then said taking a quick toke before he continued, "Connor's like my son in so many ways. Curious, likes to poke around, enjoys playing with fuckin' _dogs_. But he's also different. He can be a dense fuck sometimes, but I like his company."

I glanced back through the large glass doors into the living room. Connor was still playing with Benny. I felt myself smile slightly.

"Thanks," I said quietly, looking at the older man as he stubbed out his cigarette on the balcony railing and flicked it off to get lost in the falling snow. I watched it sail, "for telling me."

He made to move towards the door, "no problem. Just don't expect me to get sentimental around the fuckin' tin can."

I smiled as he opened the door for me and let me inside.

After a short while of making small talk amongst ourselves, with my spoiled dog still lying on Connors lap as he gave him far more belly scratches than he'd received in a long time, Hank's phone started beeping. He fished it out from his pocket and read it for a few moments before shoving it deep back into where it came.

"I've got to go," he said, grunting as he stood up, "office wants me to come in now."

Connor slowly eased Benny off of his lap. The dog laid down by his feet and looked positively betrayed. The android got to his feet, and so I did too with them. The pair started towards the front door.

"Wait," I said and they stopped to face me, "would you mind if Connor stayed a while? I've got a few questions I'd like to ask him."

Hank looked pointedly at his partner, who looked between us in a confused manner.

"Uh, sure," he said, looking at me and giving a slight smile, "that's not a problem."

I started to get a little nervous as Hank made to leave, and the second the door closed behind him, I could feel the palpitations starting. I didn't want nerves and fear to take over now. I wanted to beat this.

"Shall we sit?" He offered. I gave a quick nod. I returned to my place on the sofa, and he planted himself down where Hank had been sitting. I could feel the panic rising through me, but I took a few deep breaths and lifted my eyes to look at him.

His eyes were a soft brown, not too glaring, not too round. His eyebrows were tidy and straight. His jawline was sharp and pronounced. His hair was soft looking, a deep brown, styled almost to perfection. His suit was clean and pressed, and his hands were clasped neatly together on his lap. This was the android I had been so excited to meet - and so I tried my very hardest to tap into that excitement when looking at him.

His eyebrows then raised slightly, and he offered another smile. The LED on his temple flashed a yellow-orange for a second.

"What was it like?" I then asked, scrunching up the material of my zipper jacket in my only free hand, "liberating that many androids at once?"

His expression changed for a split second, probably as he was recalling the events. And then, much to my surprise, he slumped a little and gave a long sigh.

"It's difficult to put into words," he said softly, eyes on his lap, "but watching them all come to life, spreading the message… It was amazing."

I felt a natural smile weave its way into my features.

"It sounds it," I said, "and the march?"

This time he looked up at me, and his face was filled with such _emotion_ that I didn't know quite what to do with myself. My hand fumbled with my zipper a little more, and Connor smiled.

"It was liberating," he said, "that many androids in one place, marching with the same ideals. Seeing the army back down, seeing the happiness on Marcus' face. I felt as if I were a part of something much more than me."

"I remember seeing it all on the news at the time," I said, breaking eye contact with him and staring at Benny from across the room, "I was here, with my friends. Everyone was so excited. It was the exact result of all the work we put in."

"Oh yes," Connor said, and I turned to face him again, "I read about you. You did a lot of android freedom campaigning."

I felt my cheeks burn red, but I smiled nonetheless. I had no idea he knew _that_ about me.

"It was worth it," I managed to say after a few seconds.

It was strange, sitting barely an arms reach away from him, talking to him about something I had never thought I'd get to talk about. With him, someone who had gotten a first-hand account, who had _been_ there for every step of the way. What he did was integral, if not the most important piece of the puzzle. The numbers made everything different.

And then, I was suddenly aware of that little amount of space between us. His smile was genuine and soft, and his features were inviting and friendly. The way he sat so casually, yet with an air of dignity and confidence. I didn't even know if that was something that could be programmed.

I pushed away from the strange thoughts that started to litter my mind and smiled meekly at the android.

"That was all I had to ask you."

He nodded, "no problem."

After I had seen him off, I planted myself in my soft red chair and curled my legs up to meet my chest. I let my single arm drape over them. My heart hammered away dangerously fast in my chest, but I couldn't figure out why. Was I still scared? Nervous? Excited?

Either way, I knew for sure that everything Eric and Clara had done to make me feel wrong for supporting the androids - it hadn't worked.


	12. Chapter 11

Sundays seemed rather odd, to Connor.

Why have a day where you didn't have to do any work? Surely there was _always_ work to get on with, something important to do. Hank certainly seemed to enjoy complaining about working all week long, and then when the weekend finally arrived, he didn't actually want to do anything except sit around and drink. Or sometimes go out, find a bar, and drink there instead.

Regardless of what he thought about how the Lieutenant spent his time, Connor was very appreciative of Hank letting him live in his home. Though he often wondered if that meant he _had_ to do the same things as the old man. Minus the drinking, of course.

Hank seemed to think the same.

"Why don't you, I dunno, go out for a walk or something?" Hank grumbled, leaning further back onto the sofa and lifting his legs up to rest on the coffee table.

"And walk where?" Connor countered.

The man shrugged as he readjusted how he was sitting, "I don't fuckin' know. The park. Take Sumo out or something."

Connor watched as Hank flicked through channels on the television. Most news outlets were still talking about the android uprising. It wasn't a surprise, really, since it had only been a few weeks since it had occurred. Of course, it was as fresh as the day it happened to Connor - most nights he sat on his useless bed in his unused bedroom and recounted them over and over in his mind.

He liked reliving the feelings.

"I think I'm going to do some more investigating," Connor said as he crouched down to give Sumo some belly scratches, "I don't think it's over just yet."

Hank didn't look up, though his voice held interest.

"What makes you think that? We rescued the girl, caught the bad guys. It's over and done with."

"There was a third kidnapper," Connor then blurted - and caught Hanks full attention.

The older man sat a little straighter and craned his head to look at the android crouched on the ground.

"And you didn't think to fuckin' do something about it?"

"Well, I-" Connor started, but he found himself frowning. Why _didn't_ he do something about it? There were plenty of opportunities to do so. Even after Nora was taken away and the SWAT teams did a final sweep of the building, he had failed to mention that there was a third kidnapper. He had just left with Hank.

Hank's expression softened, but only a little. Connor found that he wasn't able to read him very well.

"You go do what you gotta do," said Hank, eventually. Then, he turned his attention back to the television and resumed flipping through the channels.

Connor stood straight, sending a final confused glance at the man before leaving through the front door and walking in one direction.

* * *

The RK800 held a clenched fist above the red painted door, waiting for something. He wasn't sure what, but he knew that whatever it was, he wanted the outcome to be good. What would he say? _Hi, how are you?_ Or maybe _How have you been since the last 24 hours that I saw you?_ Or he could probably ask himself - why did he even come here? Would she still be afraid, and turn him away? What if the kidnapper who got away knew where she lived and had hunted her down during the night… then killed her in her sleep and strangled her dog.

He knocked three times.

This time, it took her nineteen seconds to answer the door, with Benny at her heels.

"Oh," she said simply, "hello."

It was then that Connor realised that he hadn't really thought ahead when making his way through the snow over to her apartment. All he knew was that he was concerned for her safety and that some little slither of his mind was curious about her.

"Sorry to bother you," he said, smiling, "but I've come to ask you a few further questions about the incident."

Nora glanced around him, noticing then that he was alone. She looked down at her dog as he pranced around happily at the android's feet, and then with a seconds hesitation, she moved out of the way so Connor could enter her apartment.

"Thank you for having me," Connor said, following her as she made her way into the small kitchen. He watched as she made a coffee with just one hand, and was mildly impressed.

"I'm sorry I can't offer you one," she said quietly, throwing him a wary smile.

Offer him one? Why would she want to do that? She knew that androids didn't need to consume human food and drink. And with most older models, doing so would damage their internals.

"It's no issue," he said, not quite understanding.

She turned around and leant against the kitchen worktop, taking a tentative sip of her hot coffee.

"What did you want to ask?"

He scanned her quickly. Her heart rate was normal, if not a little bit high. She seemed like she was recovering well, despite the handicap of having only one usable hand.

Getting straight into business, Connor stood a little straighter.

"I've decided to pursue your case a little deeper," he began, "during the incident, only two of the kidnappers were apprehended."

She paused, mug stopping an inch beneath her lower lip.

"Only two?" She said softly, disbelief errant in her voice.

"I saw the third," he admitted, "but they got away. Do you remember anything about a third kidnapper?"

Her heart rate had increased a little, and Connor shifted where he stood. A part of him was starting to feel uncomfortable about asking her to recount her ordeal. He knew that humans were far closer tied to their emotions than he could ever imagine being, and his knowledge on how they dealt with remembering traumatic experiences led him to believe their emotions were far more attached than with androids.

Her eyes glazed over for a second, and he knew it meant she was remembering. It was similar to the way androids paused for a moment to search through their memory banks. The hand supporting her full mug of coffee began to waver, and before he knew what he was really doing, he had stepped up to her and gently removed it from her grip. She started fiddling with the zipper on her hoodie, a habit he had noticed the day before.

"I, uh," she said, with a tremble to her voice, "I… there was a third person there. But he didn't really do anything. I think it was a he... Just sat in the shadows."

Connor stepped back, still holding her coffee.

"Is that all?"

She looked up at him, and her lip trembled slightly.

"About him? Yes. He didn't get involved."

"Okay," Connor said, and tried to sport a smile, "you don't have to say anything more. I don't want to pressure you."

Why _didn't_ he want to pressure her? If anything, the Connor _before_ deviancy would have done anything to squeeze the tiniest morsel of information out of his interviewees. He would have slammed the coffee cup down on the kitchen side and pushed and _pushed_ until the person suddenly remembered all the information he needed. She probably did see the third assailants face, and she probably remembered something vital, but Connor found that he just didn't want to bring her any more trouble.

So instead, he spoke softly and motioned into the other room.

"Let's sit," he said, "I'm done asking about this."

She nodded, a meek movement, devoid of much else.

In Nora's living room, she lowered herself slowly onto the sofa and curled her legs up beneath her body. She gratefully took the mug back from him, before hazarding another sip.

"How is your arm doing?" He asked, figuring she would appreciate a change in conversation.

She looked down at the arm that was still secured in a cast and gave a little shrug.

"It doesn't hurt, but it's getting very uncomfortable. It makes it really hard to sleep, actually."

He watched her. Now that she wasn't lying on the floor of some empty room bathed in her own blood, it was far easier to get a look at her. Her hair was auburn, a deep mixture of brown and red, flowing in soft waves to stop just below her shoulders. As she looked up, and he noticed that her eyes were blue. But, they also held a deeper, more shadowed tone. Her skin was smooth, yet from the very few times he had seen her smile, he knew doing so could leave tiny little creases at the corner of her eyes. There was a gentle yellowing above her right eye in particular, and Connor found he was relieved that the injuries she had sustained didn't leave any lasting damage. Gentle freckles were splattered carelessly across the top of her cheeks and bridge of her nose.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he replied, but his eyes had gotten lost with exploring her face.

Her lips looked soft and malleable, if not a little on the thin side. Her slender neck smoothly met her collarbone, which was exposed beneath the large shirt she wore. He had a collarbone, too. It had the exact same functions as hers. They were the same, in that regard. He wondered how similar were they in other ways, humanity and the androids.

 _He liked how she looked. She was prett-_

His systems suddenly lurched, and he ran a quick diagnostic. Nothing seemed to have gone wrong, so why did his insides feel like that had been scrambled up in all of a second? He looked at her and consulted his records of her once again.

 _He liked how she looked. She looked like a healthy human._

"Connor?" She then asked, and his eyes shot up to meet hers. He scanned her, noticing her heart rate had increased.

Had he been caught staring? But more importantly, why had he been staring in the first place?

His voice seemed to speak before he was even prepared.

"Sorry to brings this up again," he said hastily, "but knowing for sure that a third assailant was present has given me a reason to head back to the DPD. They are unaware of this knowledge."

He moved to get up, but he was surprised to see her eyes widen. She shifted forward on the seat a few inches.

"Wait," she said, "you're leaving now? You just arrived…"

Her voice trailed off, and he frowned in response and lowered himself back onto the sofa. He linked his fingers together on his lap.

"Would you like me to stay?" He asked, and surprisingly, it was as if her dog had understood him. Benny came trotting over, sat on his haunches in front of Connor. Then, he planted his black and white muzzle on his knees. Connor smiled at the hound and patted him softly on the head.

Then, he heard Nora chuckle. He had yet to hear her laugh, and so looked up with a smile.

"I think Benny here has made that decision for you," she said, placing her coffee down so she could reach forward and pet her dog, she was closer to him now, and she raised her eyes to meet his, "if you don't mind?"

It was true that he did need to get back to the DPD. He needed to report to them that there was a third kidnapper still on the loose, still running around Detroit. He needed to tell them that Nora wasn't safe just yet, that her life and the lives of others were still at risk. It was his duty as an officer to complete his job to the fullest.

"I don't mind," he said, completely ignoring what his programming had to say, "if it makes you feel better, I'll stay."

She smiled properly now, and he noticed that her heart rate spiked upwards again - why did that keep happening? Was she getting ill?

"Great," she said, glancing somewhere over to her left. She continued slowly, "you ever played a video game before?"

This was a question that Connor wasn't expecting, and as such he frowned at her.

"No, I've never played one. Why?"

She smiled again, blue eyes shining, "I've got a few I think you'd like."


	13. Chapter 12

For most of my Monday, I made it my goal to do as little as possible. I wanted my arm to heal as quickly as it could, so I threw a couple of the prescription painkillers down my neck with some water, put on some comfy clothes, and cuddled up on the sofa with Benny. _As stress-free as possible_ , I told myself, _no distractions, no visitors, no strenuous movement_.

I figured a day of watching movies and drinking coffee would be enough to stop me from being bored, but all I could think about was the fact today was meant to be my first day at my new job, and that there were androids out there who were going without my help.

I'd spent most of the night thinking about androids. What they mean to me, what their _feelings_ mean to me. And most importantly, how I want their future to look. I came to the conclusion, pretty easily actually, that everything Eric and Clara did to me was null. I might have been beaten and broken and starving, but my willpower wasn't damaged. I want to help these androids, I want them to prosper and be able to exist the way they were meant to - freely.

My thoughts turned to Connor, as well. I thought about the prior evening spent playing silly video games on my home console. He was confused at first, but once he knew the controls, there was no stopping him. We tried shooter games, he blitzed through them, puzzle games weren't really puzzles at all to him, and fighting games were easy as pie after he memorised all possible move combinations. I was at a loss by the end of it - until I provided him with a game wherein which the characters could live or die depending on the choices of the player.

It was an interesting situation really, and his response to some of the scenes was awfully human. He'd pause the game and consider his options, ask me if it were possible to redo any of his choices - to which he was disappointed that he couldn't - and even told me he wasn't sure that the choices he made were correct.

"I'm not sure I can do this," he had said, giving me a exasperated look.

I'd merely curled myself up a little more beneath the blanked and shrugged at him.

"The point of this game is that the story bends around the choices you make. It's not real, so there's no right or wrong. You've just gotta do what you feel would be best for the kind of story you want to tell."

He had sighed, frowning and mumbling, "and you humans get _enjoyment_ out of this?"

I grinned, remembering the evening fondly.

It was useful, really. It felt in a way that I was getting a hands-on, personal view into how a deviant android went about making human decisions, even if they were fake and in a game. Honestly, I'd sort of expected similarities to the human studies I had read about, but not _that_ similar. I'm even considering taking such trials into CyberLife… when I finally start.

I gathered Benny up into my arms and gave him a long hug, to which he responded with a huff and a stretch. I itched his belly and bit my lip in thought.

My eyes found the clock on the wall. 3 o'clock in the afternoon. I'd managed to sufficiently waste most of my day doing nothing in particular, and hell, it sucked.

I paused for a few moments, before kicking myself mentally for giving up with my 'relaxing' day, and getting up off of the couch.

"C'mon Benny," I said, and my dog's head snapped up to stare at me, ears standing tall. He knew what was coming, "wanna go for a… walk?"

I struggled to get his leash on with one arm far more than any other task so far.

* * *

The nearby park was a winter wonderland. Waves of soft untouched snow almost as far as the eye can see. Trees were bare and lined with white, and the benches were hidden beneath dunes of soft ice. The path had been cleared, and anti-slip sand scattered around.

I had wrapped up very warm. Thick winter coat, a single mitten (much to my annoyance), a lovely maroon scarf that my mother had knitted for me a few years back, and of course an equally warm woollen hat that was pulled down low over my ears.

Steam billowed from my mouth as I laughed at Benny as he frolicked through the snow, red and green coat looking snug on his black and white body. He barked happily and disappeared into the ice.

"Benny!" I called, laughing again, and his head popped up from the snow. He came barrelling towards me, and I thanked the heavens that the floor had been sufficiently spread with grit, as I had to jump out of the way unless I wanted my own dog to send me head over heels.

Eventually, Benny wore himself out and trotted beside me as we walked down the cleared path through the park, heading towards an area that consisted of a few shops - though most were closed now that their android workers were either gone or had escaped.

"Nora?" A voice shouted from up ahead, and I looked up to see a rosy-faced woman - also bundled up in warm clothes - linked arm and arm with a wide-eyed man.

I choked out in surprise, "oh my god, Sam!"

She came running over, seeing the empty sleeve that I had tucked into the front pocket of my coat, "Your arm! Where is it!?"

"Relax," I laughed, "it's inside the coat. In a cast - it got broken."

Her chocolate hair flew around her head as she shook it in disbelief, catching the snow that fell around us.

"Oh no…" she quickly gave me a careful hug, "I'm so sorry that happened to you. And I'm _so_ glad you're safe - you had us worried sick."

I hugged her back with my one free arm, grateful that she seemed so concerned.

She pulled away slightly and planted a kiss between my eyes, then grabbed my cheeks between her mittened hands and frowned.

"I swear to god girl, don't _ever_ let me get drunk enough to let you go home on your own in the future," she said, voice thick with emotion, "I've been driving myself mad over it."

I pulled myself out of her grasp and gave her and Joel a smile.

"I appreciate it," I said to them, "thanks - but it was own my fault really. I was being too curious. Nothing would have happened if I'd just kept walking."

Joel's expression was sad, "it's been driving me mad too. I wasn't even drunk and we let you leave… you should have gotten in the taxi with us."

I shrugged, "really guys, it's all done and gone now. I'm still alive, just temporarily one arm short."

The pair looked grateful, and Joel then pulled me into a strong, warm hug.

"Always the modest one," he mumbled into my hat, and I laughed into his shoulder and gave him a quick squeeze. Luckily he let me go much easier than Sam did.

"I'm not so nervous outside now," I said, waving a hand down at Benny, who sat panting beside me, "got this one to protect me."

Sam linked her arm with Joel's again and leant down to pat Benny on the head. The Dalmatian barked happily and tried to lick her glove.

"Good dog," she said, "keep her safe, okay?"

"So," I said, putting my hand in the pocket of my thick coat, "what are _you_ guys doing out in this weather?"

Joel smiled, "well, we were just on our way to Marco's, wanna come?"

The idea of hot coffee in this kind of weather was almost mouth-watering, and I eagerly nodded. Together, we walked the short distance to the family-owned coffee shop, sitting outside where there were some nice heaters, which had melted away the ice and kept the area useable to customers.

Sam ran inside to grab the drinks, and I let out a sigh of relief at being able to sit down.

"I'm _meant_ to be resting," I admitted to Joel, who was swiping snow out from his curly hair, "but sitting cooped up inside was driving me insane."

"I bet," he said, giving me a pitiful look, "weren't you meant to start work today?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, but gave a shrug and tried to act like it didn't bother me (it _really_ did), "they've postponed my first day till Wednesday so I can recover."

"Jesus," Joel scowled, "so they give you time to recover, but only two days? They sound like jerks already, to be honest."

I rolled my eyes, "Joel, you've gotta keep in mind that CyberLife is taking a new approach to this whole android business. It's the whole reason they're bringing me in."

"I know, I know," he said, warming his hands in front of one of the heaters, "their past is so fresh though. Kinda hard to forget."

I frowned, parroting him, "I know."

"So," he chirped, changing the subject a little, "you've been on your own since you got outta the hospital?"

My chest did a weird sort of flip at the thought of telling someone about the time I had spent with Connor.

"No, actually," I said with a smile, "one of the investigators on my case has been visiting periodically to make sure I'm alright."

Joel raised an eyebrow at me as he removed his scarf, and my face flushed with heat.

"It's _nothing_ like that!" I cried with a laugh, wishing I was closer so I could punch him on the arm, "he's an android, that RK800 from the news."

Now the man's eyebrows were both raised equally high, and he leant forward as he spoke with a childlike wonder.

"No shit?! The RK800? From the TV? Holy crap, Nora that's freakin' sweet!"

I couldn't help but get giddy at his enthusiasm and leant forward too.

"Right?! He's so cool, I got him to play video games last night, can you believe that?!"

He barked out a laugh, "you've got an android playing video games? No way, how did he do? What did you play?"

I grinned, "a couple of puzzlers - he pretty much put my scores in the trash. He was good at shooters too, but, I was amazed when I got him to play that new game by Lightronics. The one that's basically Cluedo but with more death?"

"I know the one," Joel said, "shit, giving an android decisions like that - what'd he do?"

"He got a little frustrated," I admitted, "but he did so much more. Asked questions, gave his point of view, all that stuff. It was so _human_ and was so eye-opening.

"I'm actually thinking of bringing something similar into the work I'll be doing at CyberLife," I added, "maybe something where I task androids with hypothetical questions like were presented in the game. I feel it could be useful info, really."

"Are you two talking about work, really?" Sam then said, appearing from within the coffee shop. She placed three coffees down on the table, steaming into the cold air.

"I guess you could say that," Joel laughed, taking his own and having a generous sip. He coughed loudly and made a few strange noises, "oh Jesus, that's hot!"

Sam tutted as she edged around him to sit in the one spare seat at the table, "you're own fault for drinking it so fast!"

Looking like a puppy who had been told off for destroying a cushion, Joel instead cradled his drink and frowned.

I took my coffee and had a slow, tentative sip - nearly singeing myself in the process. I put it back down and waited for it to cool off a little. Sam shrugged at me and nursed her own drink very carefully.

"We're really glad you're safe," Sam said from behind her coffee, "everyone's been asking about you."

"Yeah?" I asked, leaving my gloved hand clamped around my mug for warmth, "I hope nobodies been worrying too much."

"Chase and Laura were adamant about setting out on their own search party for you, but the cops got there first - thank God. The pair were _this_ close to barging down every door in Detroit."

Chase and Laura were two siblings, a year beneath me at University. One went on to work for a local newspaper as a journalist, the other took over their father's business. A bakery, of all places. It was often strange to see the bearded, tattooed yet jovial man standing behind the counter with flour dusted across his cheeks. I'd known the pair since their first day of uni, and we became fast friends - me because I was new to the city and had a distinct lack of friends, and them because they were interested in the rights of androids and saw me as a great window into that area.

I giggled, "what about the others? No other damage to personal property, I hope."

Joel shook his head, "David was concerned too, went straight to your mom's house when he found out. She'd already been told, was inconsolable apparently."

I smiled softly then, "that's good of him. Mom's always been able to open up to him about stuff."

David was a good few years my senior, quiet, but supported the cause to the fullest. I met him when I first started University in the city, and he always urged me to go one step further with my hopes and dreams. He'd forever be someone my family could rely on in our times of need.

"We should all meet soon," I suggested, "when my arm's done being broken."

Sam's face lit up, "yes, absolutely! Maybe we could have a little chill party like we used to at uni? With crappy movies and pizza?"

"That's a fantastic idea," Joel said, finally taking a sip of his coffee, "It's been a while since we had a little reunion that ended happily."

This time I _did_ lean over and slap him on the arm, "oi, too soon!"

He chuckled, "sorry, sorry."

Long after our drinks had been finished, and the conversation had weaved from parties to memories, to embarrassing moments, to Sam's fear of spiders, we eventually called it a day and headed back to our own places - though not after the pair fawned over me and made sure to let Benny know he was in charge of getting me home safe.

Eventually, I sat back down on my sofa and let out a long sigh, glad to be home. Benny headed straight to his bed and curled into a tight ball. I smiled over at him, grateful I had made the decision to go out that day.


End file.
